Courtesy panoramio.com
Daily Music Selection
Written by Ken Carman I live inside the dreams of other men, within the imagination of other women. I live between the lines, the photons, the the dots of ink, the images you type out on your laptops, PCs and Macs. You can’t see me, but I know you. There are many of us here you never see. You only know us by telling us to fly, dive, swim and, yes, die. But we never really die. You just re-imagine us. I have been to Mars, seen the Earth explode, been to wizard school, rode Saturn sandworms. You go wild imagining what I can, could or would be. There was a time we had some rest between the moments, then one of your writers imagined that they could step between the moments and then that refuge was gone. Damn Steven King and his Langoliers. Yet I long for a day with nothing to do, a cup of coffee: watching birds feed at a feeder above my picture window, just to goddamn sleep, for even when you sleep I live on. Every dream pushes me on, takes me where I may not want to go. You are my God.. …and I…
Written by Lilith Raymour I come here to eat often. The strange creatures just toss perfectly good food out into the jungle. I have to compete with other creatures, but I’m faster, tougher… so I do eat occasionally. Still, I am always so hungry. Today I heard them toss out some more and, as I ate, I noticed the dropped some. I ate that and found they had dropped some more. Then in the dark I saw a big yellow, warmth, thing, with the creatures surrounding it. I am so cold. So cold. So I crept closer. No sharp sticks. No stones. So I laid down. One came close and rubbed my head. I have been so alone. My pack left me behind long ago because I was too slow, too weak. Now I have found a warm home, and a new pack. Who cares if they don’t look like me? _________________________________ ©Copyright 2012 Lilith Raymour all rights reserved
Written by Ken Carman (An Anti-Love-Letter) So you thought… You could pretend to care, to use me, to abuse me, then throw me away when I wasn’t as useful as your lust for life demanded: like yesterday’s trash… only to pass by occasionally, or have me over, so you could insult, ignore, be ruse, point, laugh and mock me while with friends, or in front of your new beau? When we met… You, on the down, needing someone to make you feel worthy again after being used up and tossed aside yourself. Me: looking for a lifetime partner, a very close friend: one to share my life, my thoughts, my dreams, my aspirations: my world, with. To become part of my songs, my poetry, my prose: part of me, and me… as much a part of them. You: on the way to the next fantasy who would never measure up, though you would never see that. And after the next fantasy tossed YOU aside, you’d find someone else to become yesterday’s trash. For some reason that makes you feel good about yourself again, even though you only repeat what was done to you, what you complain about to friends. Then,…
Courtesy car-accidents.com Written by Ken Carman So sad. I returned to the old Ford truck my cousin had been driving that day. A semi had slid and tipped sideways into us during a brief, freak, ice storm. No one’s fault. He had been killed instantly and the town mourned. Small town where he had been the basketball hero where basketball was only played by Gods. He had been loved by everyone, and he seemed to return the worship. Oh, hi. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m the town slut. Not really, damn that Jimmy Higgins. Refuse to let the teen perv into your panties and lies flow like at a political convention. But no one trusts me. No one believes me. No one ever believes “the slut.” I’ve just escaped the hospital after months of therapy, needles, operations and generally being looked own upon as, “Why couldn’t we save Jimmy instead of a bimbo like you?” The remains of the Ford truck are at Jerry’s towing, and Jerry reluctantly allowed me to get a few things out of the smashed carcass… including Jimmy’s camera. Jerry, the 60 year old fool, has been hot for me since he found out what…
Written by Lilith Raymour No one owes you happiness You have to find it Prowl for it Some days that’s all it takes to cast a smile on your face Happiness plays hide and seek That’s part of the adventure The challenge The joy Some days You’re the Road Runner Some days the Coyote And no day No matter what the planning Is “safe…” from hard landings The darkest days Can provide mirth If only in the mind “Seek and ye shall find” For happiness hides Under the floorboards In Or out of your bed On top of the house Occasionally must be fed Too many people starve happiness Then wonder why it dies Beep, beep ________________________________- ©Copyright 2012 Ken Carman all rights reserved
Written by Ye Olde Scribe Thinking what Trayvon thought: “Fe Fi feh Fo Is causin trouble just for fun Fe fi foo who? Who are ya, mon? Is smells da smell George Zimmerman’s gotta gun Fe Fo Fu glue Is gonna beat dis turkey Look at him da run! Ei, oh, ow, ee George went n shot punk ass me” So hard to argue with simplistic minds of racists _______________________________________ ©Copyright 2012 Ye Olde Scribe all rights reserved
Written by Ye Olde Scribe I’m beneath your pocket Bouncing around You picked me up at… a motel a fair who knows where Itch Scratch Burn scrape For my ability to irritate I wear a super cape! Some call me… a fungal infection Where lotion is sold But in microbial world When my name is told They just call me… “A nasty old ‘Skin Troll’” __________________________________ ©Copyright 2012 Ye Olde Scribe all rights reserved
